Just Rewards
by Tacky76
Summary: Ichigo, 25, What is he doing then? Writing all various Alternate endings for this, good, bad, funny,tragic, ugly etc...
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: - I don't own Bleach. Kubo Tite owns Bleach.**

_**Please Read And Review**_

**This is my first attempt at angst**

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Kurosaki Ichigo, 25 years old, warehouse worker, laboured all day on cross dock. The sweat caked on his face and his arms as he hoisted yet another large box over his shoulders. Marching through the maze like warehouse, he found the store number he had been searching for. Throwing the box into the relevant spot between the yellow lines, he turned it over one last time to check the barcode store number against the store area he placed it in. '_2016_' he read in his mind.

The store numbers had been separated to prevent ambiguity, so the next number up was 2028 and the number before it was 2005. This was a dead end job that morons could do but he was stuck with it. It wasn't his fault that Rukia had come into his life and given him Shinigami powers. It wasn't his fault that during the last years of high school, Aizen had launched an attack on earth. It wasn't his fault that fighting for the survival of all existence meant that his attendance was poor and his marks plummeted. Unable to get into a decent University or College he was stuck where he was now. Working shiftwork or temporary jobs that allowed him the flexibility to choose his hours, at the cost of poor pay.

He grunted as he reached the stock pylon, staring at the never ending pallets of goods that needed to be sorted through to their respective stores. "Hurry up, Kurosaki!" His bulging team supervisor yelled at him, "we've got more shit comin' in soon. I need all this stuff cleared."

Ichigo frowned as he hefted another large box over his shoulders, this one, to store number 96, on the other side of the gargantuan warehouse. The humidity in the air, beaded moisture on his skin. "_Shit_!" he silently cursed to himself. Why had he bothered saving these morons for anyway. No one would ever know how much he had done for them nor would they ever find out.

The whirr of forklifts whizzing in and out of the warehouse, the clack of wooden pallets landing on pallets signalled more incoming stock. He wiped away some grime on his chest, noting he smelled like a bad, damp sock. Two circles of moisture clung to his t-shirt under the pits of his arms. His fluorescent safety vest was blackened with soot and paper dust. When he spat or blew his nose, the colour matched the filth on his steel capped boots.

"Ow! Shit!" Ichigo swore as a wayward pallet jack ran into his ankle.

"Sorry mate!" came the nonchalant reply from one of the 80 floor staff present.

That had been a polite encounter, some had been worse. "Shit! Numbskull! Watch where you're walking!" an irate worker shot at him as he accidentally cut the man's walk path off.

"Sorry!" Ichigo replied wiping the sweat off his forehead.

They day meandered like so, carton after carton, pallet after pallet. The honking of trucks informed Ichigo that more goods had arrived in the inbounds dock. The exhaust fumes mingling with the humid air raising the temperature yet again under the aluminium ceiling.

He had tried to redo his last year of high school again at one stage, trying to go for University entrance. But the long nightly shifts with Rukia, hunting down Hollows and burying souls meant that he failed again. He even remembered the words of a counsellor he had talked to, "Maybe you're just not right for education, Kurosaki. It might be better if you tried to find gainful employment instead."

The words had hurt him. He was once a top 50 student in his grade, until he got messed up with the world of the dead. A bobcat had once backed into him on a job he had done. Lying there, he had actually hoped to die, joining Soul Society properly. But Hanatarou had arrived and no one saw him heal Ichigo. In doing so, his lack of substantial injury had meant that his workers compensation pay out had been meagre, at best.

Ripping the shrink wrap off a new pallet, he began to work on the next load. He lugged another heavy box onto his shoulder. 4216, he read the store number. It was the middle aisle off to his left. Dodging a trolley, he weaved around another pallet jack as he made his way to the store.

All he had going for him was his strength. He was stronger than the average man and those who knew him were often surprised by how much his average frame could carry. 100kg boxes was a medium weight for him, if that. His reiatsu had helped in that instance, keeping his stamina and strength beyond normal. However the warehouse supervisor had taken note of this and had given his trolley away to others, less stronger than him. Arguing that they had need of it more than he did considering his carrying capacity.

A spider leapt out of the carton and ran down his neck. Without flinching he swiped at it with his grubby hands, flicking the arachnid away from his body. The sight of moisture and green bits beneath his fingernail told him he had flicked a little too hard. He wiped the gore off onto his vest as he threw down his parcel in position and double checked its label.

Walking back to the pallet, he picked up the strewn shrink wrap on the ground and tossed it into the garbage pile for collection later. He felt moisture. He looked at his scarred, blackened hand. "Fuck!" he cursed under his breath.

The bubbly liquid splattered on his fingers meant that someone had spat in the shrink wrap he had just tossed. He wiped it off on his vest again and went to the water cooler, pouring himself a plastic cup of water. He gulped it down hurriedly and poured a second, sculling that down too. But it was not quick enough for his pig of a team leader. "Are you gonna drink that all day?"

"I'm just getting a drink. I'll be there in a sec."

"Fine. Just hurry it up. Sea freight just landed on inbound dock 2. We're gonna need to have that floor clear before then." He examined Ichigo through squinted eyes, "ya' up for overtime or ya' gonna go home 'n bludge, fuck the missus and go ta' bed?"

Ichigo bit his temper, smiling as if he'd heard a joke. "No, overtime is fine by me." He needed the money anyway.

It was dark as he got home. Public transport was a nightmare at the best of times. Buying a car was out of the question for him. Once he had bought a small hatchback to get to work, but a Hollow targeting him put an end to that. Insurance didn't pay out on monster crushings and because he couldn't logically explain what had happened, it was written off as an act of god. His income had gone into paying off that damned car and now it was used for rent and supporting his precious lifestyle.

He opened the door to his small, dilapidated apartment to the smell of fresh home cooking and a sleeping figure on the couch. Kissing her forehead, she stirred as she woke up.

"Hey honey," he whispered. "I'm home."

"You stink," she smiled and made it sound like a compliment. "Go have a shower."

She pecked him on the lips and pushed him towards the bathroom. Ichigo stopped by the small paper door and slid it open. He smiled when he saw the two reasons that kept his heart beating for another day. The babies lay quietly sleeping in their cots, wrapped up snugly under warm blankets. Blowing them an air kiss he marched off towards the shower.

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**AN: Should this be a one shot? Who's his wife? Who cares? LOL. I wrote this when I had a bitch of a day at work!**


	2. Shinigami: Ugliness

**Disclaimer: - I don't own Bleach. Kubo Tite owns Bleach.**

_**Please Read And Review**_

**Feel free to send me other alternate endings. Be warned I will beta before I post.**

**These are all alternate endings to the Prologue. Independent of each other.**

**Alternate Ending Author: Tacky76**

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**Shinigami – Ugliness**

Rukia smiled as she rolled over their soft, warm bed. She wrapped her arms around the rock hard abdomen of her husband. It was 5am already. She knew because Ichigo's alarm clock had gone off. She basked in the comforting warmth of his body. The reassuring feel of his closeness, but as he stirred she knew it would not last long.

Ichigo stroked the delicate fingers of his wife, gently prying them from his stomach. He didn't want to wake her up as he crawled out of bed to face another day at the warehouse. As he got out of bed, he turned around and placed a feather light caress on her cheek. Was that her eyes fluttering, he wondered. He hoped he didn't disturb her as he grabbed his work clothes and hauled his lethargic body into the tiny cubicle they called their bathroom.

He stood under the spray of hot water, as it quickly turned to luke warm, then lost pressure to become a drizzle. Standing in front of the mirror he stared at the skeletal reflection looking back at him. The black rimmed eyes and gaunt, paper like skin palled over his jutted cheek bones looked more at home on a Hollows face. Looking down at the sink, he spat. Cursing, he belittled himself for not being able to give Rukia and the kids he wanted them to have. The life he knew they deserved.

Rukia lay on her side, listening to the familiar sound of the hot water running out. She didn't care. Cold never worried her. She was happy that it was there for Ichigo. She faced down Hollows, fought Arrancars, defied her brother and stood up to the bureaucracy of Soul Society. But a tear formed in her eye and threatened to soil their sacred matrimonial bed as she thought of the bills to be paid. The bills she had no power to help with. To pay for their children's needs, her husbands food, rent and the myriad of other things she had never known about until she entered the real world. She couldn't even work, never having existed in Japan. Ichigo had arranged for her green card from China, claiming she was Chinese but her immigration status to permanent residency would take a year longer to finalise. Until then she was trapped.

She had tried her best to balance their accounts, paying bill after bill as money became available. She had sold a lot of the dowry her brother had given her. But now, now her resources were at a frayed end. Ichigo's job paid little, even though he worked hard and long. She wiped the tear away, not allowing it to touch her pillow. The thought that she was the reason he couldn't finish high school, couldn't get into a college or university to get him a better chance at getting a job that paid well and provided for a better life, hurt her. The thought that her very existence had taken that away from him, the man that she loved more than life, the life that she loved in him, destroyed by the life that was her own, disturbing the natural flow of his, caused her throat to constrict. She could finally see why the laws of Soul Society were created the way they were. They were set up by someone older, wiser and someone who obviously understood what the impact the disruption of a human's life could lead to.

Ichigo got out of the bathroom and pulled on his thick, heavy work pants. Throwing on a clean work T-shirt, he grabbed his iridescent safety vest and walked out into the kitchen. Turning the stove on, he began to heat up the remains of last nights dinner for breakfast. Rukia could hear him as he prepared for the days labour. She sniffled at the thought that she couldn't provide a decent breakfast for him, instead saving dinner from the night before to compensate. She listened at the various sounds of Ichigo's daily morning ritual. The clicking of the door lock signified he had left for another day.

It was mid morning and the babies had finally settled back into a silent slumber. She could finally sit back down at their wobbly dining table and sorted through the days mail. Bill, bill, bill, ads, bill and bank statement. Tearing the statement open she looked at the dismal figures. Rukia whimpered. She was supposed to be stronger than this but years of stress and pressure to maintain her household had finally weighed heavily on her thin shoulders. Wiping away a tear she fought to compose herself as she flicked through dozens of ideas in her head. Sighing, she walked over to the telephone and picked up the receiver. Punching the numbers, she waited on the dial tone before the familiar '_operator_' picked it up. "Urahara. Patch me through to my Soul Society please."

"Shall I charge this to your account?" Urahaha soothed.

"Yes thanks." At least Hollow hunting paid for these extraterrestrial phone calls. She waited as the dial tone rang and thought of the one person left she could ask for help.

Ichigo came home late again. The availability of overtime was a welcome thing that he prayed for nowadays. The skin on the back of his fingers peeled and stung where the fresh air stung his open sores. Exhaling loudly, he turned the knob on his door and entered his small apartment. The sight of his tiny wife greeted him with a smile. "Hey honey." He pecked her forehead and walked by as she took his coat for him. He wondered why she was being especially nice but all thoughts melted away when he looked at the sleeping forms of his children. Smiling away his stress, he closed the door as he walked off to shower.

When he was clean and refreshed, he walked back into the lounge room and sat at the table they used for dining. Rukia brought out his dinner from the kitchen and placed it before him, pausing to stare at him longingly. Reaching over, she cupped his face in her hands and kissed in his deep scent. Ichigo scowled when they drew apart. His diminutive wife simply looked glumly at him, a sort of sad half smile gracing her features. Ichigo knew she wanted to say something, so he began to eat giving her the time to decide how to begin.

She waited till he finished eating, pushing away his meal and crossed his hands over his tight stomach. "I love you, Kurosaki Ichigo."

Ichigo couldn't retain his scowl. Softly, he answered, "I love you too, Kurosaki Rukia."

She flushed happily at the warmth of his words, a genuine smile grew on her face. Then the gloom struck again. "I spoke with Nii-sama today."

"What did he say?" Ichigo knew something was up. "More Hollows?"

When he wasn't working Ichigo had spent more time than most Shinigami regulars fighting the ghastly beasts. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair for him, nor for her. It definitely wasn't fair for them. "I called him," she explained.

"What for?"

"It isn't fair you spending so much time fighting Hollows."

"It's okay really, I'm saving people. It's something I want to do."

"I know," Rukia looked proudly at her husband. "That's why I love you so much."

Ichigo drew her into a gentle hug. Something was troubling her and he knew it. A lump formed in his throat as he surveyed the room. He felt ashamed of the impoverished state of the life he could barely provide for her. She, a princess of a noble Shinigami household, forced to live in a slum because _he_ loved her. He would do anything he could if it would make a better life for them.

"Nii-sama told me they'd welcome you as a full time Shinigami on full pay." Rukia stated flatly.

"You can't buy bread on Shinigami currency."

"In Soul Society you can."

Ichigo frowned hard, looking at the top of her trembling head. Moisture formed on his chest as the tears burned into them and bore through his heart. The pain burned worse than a Hollow bite. "You mean…" Ichigo stammered.

"I want to have a future. I want _us_ to have a future, as a family. I think it might be best if we all move to Seireitei. On Shinigami wages we could easily afford a real future for the children."

It was an unusual job related move. Ichigo wondered at the statement. He knew what she said was true but something was missing. "Rukia… Won't that mean…"

"Yes Ichigo." Rukia faced her husband sternly. The tears welling in her eyes blurring the hard outline of her husband. "I'm sorry Ichigo… I'm so weak! It's all my fault-"

"-It's not your fault!" Ichigo fought to control his voice. He never wanted her or anyone to think she was to blame for his Shinigami state. Or what it did to his life. He had never regretted it and would kill any who made Rukia think to regret it. "I, me, Kurosaki Ichigo, made that choice all those years ago. I never regretted it, because I met the one person who changed my life. Who made me who I am today."

"But, now… all we have left…." Rukia couldn't finish her sentence.

"Kurosaki Rukia." Ichigo held Rukia before him gazing into her deep eyes. "I would gladly die a hundred times for you."

Overcome with emotions she hugged her partner tightly. '_Till death do us part_' did not apply to them. For them it would take more than death. Ichigo put his arms around the convulsing mass, soothing her. Smiling he added, "It's okay. As it is I've died twice for you anyway."

Half laughing, she buried her form deeper into his.

Later that cold night, Ichigo watched the gate to Soul Society open and Byakuya came out to greet them. Ichigo nodded an acknowledgement to his brother-in-law and placed a letter to his father on the rickety dining table. He walked back into his bedroom to the sight of his body lying protectively around his children. Rukia stood beside him holding his hands as her gigai, with a mod soul in it, walked over to their solid forms and began to carry out it's macabre task. Ichigo and Rukia couldn't bear to look on and closed their eyes, squeezing each others hands tightly and fighting down the surges of anger.

The wailing of his babies crying and the feel of their soul's energy told him the task was complete. Opening his eyes he tried to ignore the bloodied mess formerly known as his body and those of his children. Picking up souls of the babes he walked over to the crying Rukia and placed them in her arms. The mod soul Rukia was drenched in blood as she lay down beside the family, kitchen knife still in her hands. Turning the point around the mod soul plunged the sharp implement through her own throat before dying. Rukia had left the room while Ichigo stayed to complete the grizzly task. Tapping the back of Rukia's former bodies head, a small green pill fell out which he picked up. He really felt like crushing his murderer but, placing it back in his pocket, he knew it wasn't really anyone's fault.

Facing the gate, the family and Byakuya looked on impassively as they finally stepped through. Into the shimmering light and towards a new life, together as family.

**END **

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**AN: I have decided to do a host of various parings and their endings, good, bad, tragic, angst, funny and ugly. Feel free to submit any alternate endings you want to the prologue.**

**Question was this angst or comedy! I'm undecided! (Although I think it leans more to comedy! Damn my inherently stupid nature.)**


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